Halo: Landing Party
by TheSereneWolf
Summary: An ODST mission on a lush world held by the Covenant goes awry. Will update when and if I can...no rushing. Reviews appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Halo: Landing Party**

Chapter 1

The pod erupted from its moorings, the force of which pressed him firmly back in his seat, temporarily crushing the breath from his lungs. There was a moment of smooth flight through starry black vacuum before he hit the atmosphere. His tiny craft began to shake violently and its outer armor plating adopted a bright orange glow, along with its five dozen sister vessels.

He gritted his teeth and uttered a little prayer in keeping with his usual drop routine. The _prayer_ was something along the lines of "hold together another thirty seconds you damned scrap heap". Metal groaned ominously beneath his boots, seemingly in response to the insult.

"-you beautiful, wonderful, amazing scrap-heap," He hastily amended.

It answered by quieting once more, apart from the constant rumbling normal for atmospheric re-entry. These HEVs, Human Entry Vehicles, were temperamental machines.

Through the single view port directly in front of him, empty space gave way to cloud cover, then a vast, white-tipped mountain range came into view. His helmet's heads up display gave scrolling readouts of both elevation and ETA. The Helljumper braced for impact, managing to both count down and curse the small closet-sized pod's manufacturer, marveling at its likeness to a coffin.

5…The metal parachute, and it was graciously called that, popped out…4…3…The break jets fired…2…1-**Slam!**

Not two seconds after he landed, the Orbital Drop Shock Trooper kicked the door release, a miniature explosion sending it flying several feet. Clutching his MA5B assault rifle, silenced and equipped with the highest caliber armor piercing rounds it could safely take, he quickly exited, dropped to one knee, and gave the area around him a thorough look over. Motion sensors picked up nothing but trees swaying and thermal didn't turn up anything either.

Two others had landed nearby, their jet black full body armor and helmet a welcome sight. Though the dark blue face plate concealed their faces from view, he could tell who they were by the familiar voices that flared up on the local comm. channel.

"We should get moving, those Covies aren't going to like us dropping in for a visit, and especially not without an invitation," chimed in Specialist Grant, or 'Jester' as he was called.

"Can't say I don't agree with the man," added Specialist Jensen, or 'Rain'. She paused momentarily before continuing, "What about you Wolf?"

"He's got a point, link up your HUDs. Jester, you're on point. Two meter spread and keep it down, there's something about being slaughtered by a Covenant patrol that isn't too appealing," Wolf was quick to reply.

Two _Roger That_'s. The mission was a go.

They moved through the trees as quickly as possible while keeping the sound of their passing to a minimum. After a short while, the forest's boundaries came into view. The squad stopped at the tree line when Jester held up a closed fist.

He moved to the last and largest tree, peering around it first on one side then the other, scanning the area for any perceivable threats. A moment later, satisfied, he jogged back to his squad mates.

"No enemy activity, but that's the least of our worries. There's no cover out there save for the occasional boulder. It's basically just a huge, flat plain, and it just keeps going. I saw the lake, but my sensors put it at three thousand meters," Jester's voice sounded more than a little concerned, after all, a single Banshee fly-by out there and they were done for.

Wolf winced at the prospect of covering that great a distance completely exposed. They needed to get to that lake; it was the entire units rendezvous point and makeshift staging area. Either they arrived in the time frame they were given, or they'd be considered MIA and left to fend for themselves on this world. Given the alternatives, he would take his chances on the plains, "Let's go, double time."

Both Rain and Jester nodded, falling in behind him as he strode to the last tree. One final cursory inspection of the field and the sky above it then he turned to his comrades, nodded, and broke into a dead run. It really was an empty field, covered in foot high, dry grass. Anything larger than that was rare; this encouraged him to run _that_ much faster.

It took what seemed like an eternity, and despite mistaking the sound of a breeze rolling along the grass for a Banshee swooping in...multiple times...it was a relatively uneventful trip. The lake was ringed by large leafy trees, providing sufficient cover for the sixty or so ODSTs as they planned their assault. Each glanced over upon hearing the rustling of leaves, but after seeing ebony armor they went about their business again...save for one.

"Welcome to our pleasant little retreat, soldiers," Lieutenant Barringer barked, stepping from a small circle of higher ranking troopers to greet the new arrivals, all of whom stood at attention and saluted, "Wolf, your squad will be grouped with Hyena's and Demon's. They've already been briefed on the details and will fill you in, but here are the basic objectives." As he said this, several lines of information in grey text appeared in Wolf's HUD (God, he loved this new neural link to the armor. A new feature adapted from the famous Spartan MJOLNIR battle suit. Too bad those new personal shields were at least a few months away.)

_#1. Rendezvous with the 141st ODST division at designated meeting point. (This was darkened, and had a line through it.)_

_#2. Form small units. (This was also crossed out.)_

_#3. Scout out enemy locations. (Two scouts emerged from the woods nearby, spoke a bit to the Lieutenant, and this was also scratched out.)_

_#4. Eliminate hostile ground forces._

_#5. Acquire whatever intelligence is available._

_#6. Eliminate enemy structures._

_#7. Return to rendezvous point for extraction._

They faded, one by one, in descending order, and when the last disappeared, a small grey box labeled "objectives" flashed in the upper left corner then dimmed, becoming semi-transparent. At the bottom right, a heart-rate monitor and armor integrity readout. The top right was home to an ammunition counter and the bottom left displayed comm. signal strength, along with a motion-tracker/radar package.

"Yes, Sir! On our way, Sir!" He, Jester, and Rain saluted simultaneously before turning on their heels and marching off to find the unit.

It wasn't hard to locate Demon. He had, with the permission of Barringer, modified his face plate, changing its color from dark blue to blood red, and even went so far as to add small black spikes to most of his armor's surface area. Wolf had been told that, in light of his decade-long service record, and number of confirmed kills (Over six-hundred), Demon _earned_ the right to stand out.

Even the small insignia depicting his namesake had been vastly difficult for Wolf to acquire, given his relatively short record of a year and a half. It sort of made him envious.

The three approached him and his two fellows, Jester calling out, "Hello, oh great Demon, possessor of the amazingly subtle armor!" All three saluted.

"Shut it, Jester, we've got a mission to accomplish here," came the grizzled voice of a true veteran.

"Yes sir, Demon, sir hopping to it, sir. Err…Mind giving me, you know, specifics?"

Demon growled low in his throat, obviously in no mood for Jester's antics, "Like I said, 'Shut it' soldier, and I damn well didn't stutter."

"Actually sir-" Jester started, but Wolf nonchalantly rammed an elbow into his gut and took the liberty of finishing his sentence, "-you're right, and he'll be shutting it presently. Now, where's Hyena?"

With an appreciative nod, Demon responded, "He's over there speaking with the Loot, Just be patient, Specialist, he'll be along in a moment. In the mean-time, let's go over the mission."

"Yes, sir," Wolf, Rain, and Jester recited, though the latter wheezed slightly.

"First off, you three are Fire Team Zeta, mine is Kappa, and Hyena's Gamma," He paused a moment, to both let that sink in and analyze something on his HUD, "OK, ladies, we've just received the exact locations of our targets," As he spoke, a 3D image appeared in front of Wolf's face.

It showed an aerial view of a 1500x1500 meter piece of densely forested land; the mission area. Two large red triangles flashed in sync with one another about one hundred meters apart on the far right.

A pair of recordings popped up, one over each triangle, depicting the targets in real time. Wolf cringed again.

On one recording sat a quartet of Covenant drop ships. Luckily, they were all the older Creep models and not Phantoms, otherwise, an attempt to disable them, even with the entire sixty-man company, would have been suicidal at best. Around the ships, fifty or so Grunts milled about, either sleeping, pacing, or conversing in their guttural language. They were about four feet tall ape-like aliens wearing little suits of orange and red metallic armor along with masks, which led to their methane life support back packs.

Five Elites, encased from head to toe in crimson armor, roared orders to their troops and continually examined their surroundings for possible threats. They stood at an intimidating eight and a half feet, mouths a reverse horse shoe shape with the _legs _as opposable, fleshy _lips_, fangs lining their insides. There were four such _lips_, two on each side, and one above the other. This was bad enough, but the second screen made his blood run cold.

A pair of Hunters slowly walked in and out of a large cave formation. The two behemoths were covered in azure armor plating, and hefted massive shields forged from starship grade metals. They were completely covered, save for two points; at their neck and waist. Any area of exposed bright orange flesh was a weak point in an otherwise impenetrable defense. That wasn't all. Eight Elite rangers in their full-body, armored space suits, stood watch, large fingers twitching impatiently over the triggers of their plasma rifles. One tested his flight pack, hovering a few feet off the ground for a moment.

It might be a bit more difficult than he'd first thought.

"Nine of us against _that_" Jester asked what Wolf had been thinking, in the same incredulous tone he'd of used. Then again, he knew better.

"Yes, and we'll either kill them all, or die in the attempt. You got a problem with that, soldier?" Demon's voice was taut with barely contained aggression, patience already worn thin.

Jester muttered, "Sir, no sir."

"I can't hear you soldier."

"Sir, no Sir! I'd love to fight a clearly superior armed force and I love the prospect of being melted by a few dozen plasma blasts, all in rapid succession, Sir!" He yelled back, with not a hint of sarcasm.

Demon chuckled, "Either that was a text-book example of insubordination, or you've suddenly become worthy of my respect, Specialist."

"That'd be insubordination, Sir!" Jester yelled again, somehow still maintaining an air of seriousness.

Wolf grinned behind his face plate, while feigning a sigh of disapproval, "So when do we get underway?"

"A.S.A.P," Hyena laughed, "but I'd suggest you three stock up on ammo and get some better weaponry. We've got Hunters to deal with and those pea shooters of yours won't be of much use once the bullets start flying."

The final squad leader hefted a 102mm Jackhammer rocket launcher on his shoulder, as did his two subordinates, Raven and Tyrant, the later saying, quite matter-of-factly, "Size matters."

Rain coughed and Jester grumbled, while Raven silently gestured to a waiting Pelican drop ship, the cargo by practically brimming with all manner of death-dealing devices. The available ordinance ranged from pistols to tactical nukes stacked amid box upon box of ammunition.

A trio of additional Pelicans landed in various spots within the ODST camp, their hatches dropping to the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust and lose greenery. Ebony armored Helljumpers charged up the ramps. Usually, fifteen was the transports maximum capacity. They fit twenty, after removing a few non-essential components, like seats, and other amenities.

One, filled to bursting with heavily armed, combat read men and women, took off and rapidly accelerated as its pilot, Lt. Tabitha "Tabby" Loch let out a _whoop_ over short range radio. A few soldiers chuckled, while the brass present shook their heads.

Wolf made his way toward the weapon-laden Pelican with both Jester and Rain at his shoulders. He nodded to the sergeant watching over the cache and began rummaging, until he found what he'd been looking for; An M-12 .50mm sniper rifle (Those heavy rounds could punch right through an Elite's shield with one shot.). As he found a clip, and slammed it home, he turned to see Jester pluck a pair of 6mm Sub-machine guns from their hooks and Rain eagerly grab up a shotgun. She snatched up a bandoleer of 12-gauge shells, all of them buckshot, while Wolf and Jester pocketed clips for their respective firearms.

They jogged back to find Demon's boys, Cerberus and Orion, waiting for them. Both held Battle Rifles and were almost absently toying with the sights. Wolf coughed to get their attention.

Orion looked up, nodded, and gestured to a waiting Pelican. "They're over there. Tell Demon we'll be a long momentarily; these damn sights aren't focused too well," He uttered something to Cerberus, who chuckled and continued making adjustments.

The three nodded in near unison then made their way to the transport. They relayed Orion's message and climbed aboard, lining up beside one another. Wolf grumbled as Demon, playing his role of Master Sergeant, began shouting orders to everyone, somehow managing to be heard over the roaring engines.

As he yelled, the second Pelican lifted off, and with a "hold onto your asses, kiddies" from its pilot, Lt. Cara "Cake" Walker, blasted off into the distance.

After a few moments, Cerberus, with Orion following closely behind him, began to trot to the waiting drop ship. They never made it. Not ten feet from the landing ramp, he suddenly dropped, in two separate pieces, when a beam of purple-white light flashed through his mid-section. Orion froze just long enough for a second beam to neatly sever his head, accompanied by a fountain of crimson.

"Go! Go! Go!" Demon shouted hoarsely, and the pilot, one Lt. Dale "Trojan" Heathe, wasted no time complying. He really hit the gas, so hard in fact that an ODST lost his grip on one of the hand holds and went tumbling out the open hatch.

The man hit brutally, but it wasn't fatal. He stood, shakily, and attempted to run even as Trojan circled back to retrieve him. Two steps was all he got before a pair of converging beams sliced a leg off and blew half of his skull apart.

"He's gone! Get moving before they call in the big guns!" Demon nearly roared.

Trojan shouted back, "This bird doesn't turn on a dime, damn it! I'm doing what I can!" As he yelled, the weapon filled Pelican took off and zoomed by beneath them.

Finally, a bit of good luck! Had that ship been hit, and gone nova with those nukes on board, things would have gotten crispy aboard Lt. Heathe's Pelican. He got them reoriented, and burned it in the directions his comrades had gone.

Demon sighed while opening the encrypted UNSC comm. channel he'd ordered S, the resident tech, to set up not five minutes prior, "The landing zone has been compromised. Repeat. The landing zone is hot, people. We need a new dust off point, pronto," He paused a moment and then continued, "Three KIA."

A flight of seven Banshees appeared on the distant horizon far, far behind them; too far to be an imminent threat, but definitely something to think about during the trip. Tyrant flicked off the safety on his Jackhammer, just in case. Raven followed suite and both took up positions on opposite sides of the hatch. It remained open, to allow a clear field of fire for both troopers.

"Ghoul, Cerberus, and Orion," Demon paused again, "Remember them each and every time you gun down one of those Covenant sons a bitches!"

Fifty-six Helljumpers gave a loud, resonating "Sir, yes Sir!"

More than a few voices were tight, and a couple choked off at the end. There were definite downsides to having such a close-knit company, and this was one of them; every casualty would affect the entire group. Even Wolf, having sparred in hand-to-hand with Ghoul, practiced at the firing range with Orion, and run laps with Cerberus, every day for the past year and a half, let out a lengthy bitter sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Halo: Landing Party**

Chapter 2 – Recon in Force

He looked at the small digital readout, which showed the time in small neon green numbers. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and the entire mission had gone straight to hell. This did not bode well. A bad omen; he'd seen it before. Entire battalions had been done in by things like this. If the Covenant thought them a big enough threat, they'd be hunted down and annihilated within the next two days.

_Let's hope they don't,_ Wolf sighed, _and so much for surprise…_

The Banshees from earlier had given chase and caught up a few minutes into the flight…but bugged out after Raven and Tyrant took out six of them, leaving one, obviously the smartest in the group, to high tail it out of there at full speed. Those two knew their way around a rocket launcher.

Wolf was good, as was everybody else in the unit. _They_ were spectacular. He'd seen it before in combat, yet he still couldn't get used to it. Their reloading technique alone was something to behold.

An average marine could get two shots off in about seven seconds. Wolf could manage maybe five on a good day, a very good day. These guys hit four without so much as breaking a sweat, and their_ aim;_ it was like they were gifted with genuine foresight. They seemed to know about any move a Covie made before he even made it then sent a rocket right up the bastard's ass. Sure, there was a heat-seeking mechanism, but not once had he heard the lock-on tone, or seen them switch it on.

"_Wolf!"_

He gave a start, looking around confusedly for a split second before realizing what'd occurred. It was Demon on the comm. After taking a moment to collect himself, he answered, "Yes, Sir?"

"My new fire team members are Jackal and Hornet. They're over there," Two little neon green boxes appeared around an ODST directly in front of and adjacent to him. He nodded, and they did in return. Both knew him from training, and he them. The former had been his spotter through sniper practice and the latter supported his efforts in properly dressing wounds, an on-going exercise. That and they'd lived in close proximity for the last year and a half. Needless to say, they'd met.

Wolf noticed a slight pause and intake of breath on the word _new_. Evidently, higher rank did not, as he'd been taught, remove one from one's own emotions. Good to know; made the upper tier seem more human...on second thought, scratch that. It just made it more difficult to hate or fault them for bad decision making.

"Roger that, Sir," He gave the affirmative.

"Good," Lt. Barringer cut in on his and everybody else's comms, having apparently been listening in on the conversation, "We've still got a job to do down here, Helljumpers. Our attacks are meant to, and should, draw in a small carrier group that's been loitering around the system," He chuckled, "Our ship-bound friends in the Navy have a little surprise in store for them."

Following a small smile at the prospect of vengeance, Wolf turned to watch the ground fly by through the Pelican's hatch. He'd only just begun to become engrossed in the rapidly flickering greens, grays, browns, and blues, when he was startled, yet again, by a voice on his comm. unit.

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"Get ready boys and girls, ETA in just under thirty seconds. Kappa, Gamma, and Zeta, you're up," Lt. Heathe called out, hunkered down over his controls, brow furrowed in concentration…_Jesus_, He thought, _I hate flying this low to the deck. I swear I'm going to be picking grass out of my teeth if this keeps up!_

He muttered aloud, "They don't pay me enough."

"Me either, but at least I don't bitch about it," An ODST piped up from the back.

Heathe cursed, he'd forgotten to end the broadcast.

Another ODST, this one female, haughtily echoed the first's sentiment, "Yeah, and we actually get _shot_ at, fly boy."

Laughter went up and Lt. 'Trojan' Heathe, not to be outdone, responded in kind, "Enjoy the scenery on ground level kiddies, I'll be up here; nice, warm, and safe. Have fun," He pulled back on the flight stick and came to a stop, hovering over a tiny open glade, "Zeta, Kappa, and Gamma…first floor, dirt, trees, and Covenant!"

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Wolf, Jester, Rain, Demon, Jackal, Hornet, Hyena, Tyrant, and Raven disembarked from the Pelican, as they did, a feminine voice softly spoke over the comms, "Take care of yourselves guys, please be careful out there." It was Specialist Noble…the late Ghoul's fiancée.

"We will, Rose," Rain gently replied, "Follow your own advice, ok, dear?" The others couldn't bring themselves to speak, but chose to flash their acknowledgment lights instead just as the Pelican lifted off and rocketed away, its engines bending smaller trees over at a ninety degree angle.

The group broke into their designated fire teams and started off into the dense foliage, fanning out a good four and a quarter meters from one another in the process. Kappa took point with Demon at the front, the three teams forming a broad triangle to cover every possible attack vector. It'd take several minutes to reach the first objective and in the interim, Wolf allowed his thoughts to wander to his teammates. He still kept his MA5B up and ready should it be needed. First, his eyes settled on Jester.

Jester was a…_weird_ guy and it often struck people as odd to find somebody of his disposition in a dangerous outfit like the ODSTs. Wolf had known him for the better part of two years. They'd met in marine boot camp. Both graduated, top of their class, and quickly volunteered for duty with the Helljumpers; the day after graduation, actually. A brief look at their marks and they were inducted into the elite unit's ranks without hesitation. He was twenty years old, about 5' 9", 160 lbs. and had short black hair with dark cerulean eyes. Jester was a smart ass and jokester among other things…that, and a lightning rod for misfortune.

Wolf shook his head, focusing on the forest around him for a little while before returning his attention to the next teammate in his field of vision.

Hornet, a small spry man born in Texas whose movements were as agile as they were confident, watched his assigned slice of fire control like a nervous hawk, trigger finger itching in time with the occasional animal cry or crackling of underbrush. The guy wasn't always this high strung; in fact, this was the first time Wolf had seen him like this since he joined up. At the ripe old age of thirty, grey-haired, 5'7" and 130 lbs., Hornet was an agreeable sort, he'd usually a laid back attitude which paralleled Wolf's, but today there was an unfamiliar stiffness to his gait and he seemed jittery. Time would tell if he'd turn into a liability during the coming conflict. Wolf turned to the next one.

Jackal, as she would certainly tell you, was a strong girl and a gymnast prior to enlistment. She was nineteen, 5'6", 115 lbs. of toned muscle, pretty, blonde-haired and brown-eyed with a definite penchant for hand-to-hand combat. Sure, she was dwarfed by even the shortest Elite, but Wolf had seen her flip heel over head, land feet first on one's shoulders, and snap its neck by dropping back and twisting one-hundred eighty degrees. She'd fallen with the corpse, using its momentum to propel herself into a summersault, ending it just after passing the fallen warrior's plasma rifle. Then, she plucked it from the ground, subsequently standing, striding over, and placing a few super-heated globs of bright blue plasma into the alien's skull. Oddly, she was a very sweet, well-mannered young woman. _Next_…

Demon, a forty-two-year-old, 6'7", 280 lbs. juggernaut of African descent, bald-headed and steel grey-eyed, muscled his way through whatever obstacle nature could throw at him. The man was a beast, able to go toe to toe even with an Elite…and win. He was big, brawny, and extraordinarily dependable. He would, and had in the past, charge through enemy lines if there was so much as a slight possibility of saving a comrade. Wolf owed him his life, several times over, as did every member of the 141st.

Raven was a quiet kid, just shy of twenty-five, 6'0", and 170 lbs. with raven black hair and exceptionally dark blue eyes which bordered on purple. He was calm and a bit overly analytical at times, but a steadfast soldier who always held his own in a firefight. His composure was so impressive that once, under heavy fire from an entire squadron of Elites, a couple Hunter pairs, and a Wraith heavy tank, he'd gotten up from behind a boulder and casually walked out into the open to grab a wounded squad mate (It had been Tyrant…and he was less than happy throughout the whole ordeal, writhing and cursing even as he was dragged back to aid.). After he got back, completely unharmed, with Tyrant in tow, Raven had looked directly at Wolf, yawned, and asked "So when do we move out?" _Next…_

Tyrant's trigger finger was like a stone, completely immobile, yet somehow clenching it tightly. For anybody else, doing that would be…difficult…but it meant very little to him, considering that hand was a cybernetic creation, a gift from the Covenant. It was the same battle mentioned before. His arm had been blown off by a rogue plasma grenade, leaving him stranded and bleeding out in the middle of the scarred battle field, certain to die either through blood loss or if a Covie took notice of his location. Raven had other plans. He strode out and dragged the twenty-eight-year-old 6'1", 200 lbs. red-haired, blue-eyed Aussie to safety. Tyrant was a solid example of core military values, exuding an air of unrelenting strength and discipline; until he got hurt…then he became a walking, talking siege engine. _Next…_

Hyena chuckled when he noticed Wolf watching him, gave a quick nod, and returned to sweeping the area with his single sub-machine gun. He had a strong sense of humor that often served to keep morale from plummeting too far, jumping in now and again, much like Jester, with a clever quip or remark. His 5'8" height and 135 lbs. were far from intimidating, and his green eyes were permanently sparkling with barely contained mirth behind dirty blonde strands. This was misleading, as any of his foes would be quick to inform you, were any of them still breathing.

And lastly, there was the twenty-year-old, 5'5" Rain. Dark brunette hair and twin orbs of purest emerald with a petite 110 lbs. frame made her exceptionally appealing. She'd a somewhat bubbly, playful, but altogether sweet personality…though there was the occasional rough edge here and there. She joined just after wolf and Jester, had exceedingly brilliant close combat skills (That shotgun of hers was devastating in her hands.), and served as one of the 141st's field medics. That left one person, himself.

Wolf stood at 5'10" and weighed in at just 140 lbs., all of it lean muscle. His shaggy brown hair, light eyes of the same color, appreciation for solitude, and tendency to cull individual foes from their fellows, had earned him the name among peers. In all modesty, he was, and had been told so by instructors, a highly talented sniper. He was third in his overall class…of three-hundred. In fact, he never really felt right without the reassuring weight of his rifle.

_Good soldiers had become a rare commodity since the war with the Covenant began, but they hadn't ceased to exist; this particular group being evidence of that fact._

"_Stop_," Demon whispered over the comm., holding up a closed fist and gesturing to an opening in the tree-line with the other hand. Everyone froze in mid stride and dropped to one knee, forming a circle, their backs to one another. He pointed to Jackal and Hornet, then the gap in the trees. The two moved to either side of it, the latter nodding before slipping through.

Several long moments passed before he returned, but he did, safely, "We're just beyond the first target. Those shuttles are a good hundred and fifty meters to the northwest of our position in an open field, which sure as hell weren't too bright of 'em. Most of the Grunts are unloadin' crates off of 'em and the Elites are bein' their usual bossy ass selves. And no, Sarge, they din't see me," He paused to catch his breath, "There's an outcroppin' of rocks, huge damn things, over to the east a small ways; might be a good spot to lay down suppressin' fire from, Sarge."

"Fine work, son," Demon exclaimed, patting his shoulder, "Wolf! Get your ass up here!"

Wolf growled something unintelligible and got up, jogging over to him, "Yes, Sir?"

"You heard him, right? I want you up in those rocks covering us….on second thought, just take out the Elites once the rest of us get into position. Got that, kid?"

"Sir, yes, Sir," He saluted and briskly jogged through the opening, waving to Jackal on the way out, nearly tripping over a root as a result.

She laughed, "Work on your grace, Wolfy. I hope your aim is still better than your balance."

"That was a fluke and you know it...I didn't see it is all," Came his embarrassed reply.

"Our resident sniper isn't too observant andthat's notthe least bitconfidence inspiring," She laughed again.

"Yeah, yeah," Wolf growled, leaving the enclosure of trees with a new chip to add to those on his shoulder.

The outcropping was just ten meters from the gap and he reached it in little under five seconds, hopping onto the smallest rock for a more suitable view to better glean an ingress and egress point from his surroundings. _Ha! _He found a good spot and began to climb, leaping from stone to stone with as much grace as he could manage…after all, Jackal could be watching him. His earlier clumsiness had given his pride a nice sized dent, which he'd be happy to buff out at the earliest opportunity. He reached the highest point and lay down, pulled the sniper rifle from his back then replaced it with his MA5B.

No sooner had he set the weapon's stand up than an explosion roared to life from the direction of the drop ships. Demon's voice boomed over the comm., "They spotted us! Take out those damn Elites, Wolf!"


End file.
